


Syndonic

by Enchantable



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Beer, Cult joining, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Prequel, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: Timber's trunk snaps shut the night of the full moon. 29.5 days later, it opens again.





	1. Full

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Yeah, you’re right,” Hamish says, “she probably just got separated.”_   
>  _“Of course she did. That or she’s playing a prank,” he says, “either way, you know we’re never going to hear the end of it.”_   
>  _“A ghost of a smile tugs at Hamish’s lips and he nods._   
>  _““I’m not doing dishes for a month though,” he continues, “I don’t care how good it is.”_

He knows something’s wrong as soon as he gets through the door. 

 

It takes him only a moment to locate Hamish down in the room. He’s wrapped in his robe, staring at the three trunks that are open. More specifically, he’s staring at Timber’s trunk. Randall is now more used to Greybeard’s presence. He thinks of the relationship as symbiotic. But the gut punch of excitement and sorrow is almost disorienting. His jaw aches with the desire to howl for a lost comrade, but Randall pushes back on the thought. Cassie’s not dead. Her hide isn’t in the trunk. She just must have gotten separated. Which is odd, since Timber never goes far from Tundra. 

 

“Let’s go look for her,” he says, not bothering with asking what happened or why, “I got more juice in me, Grey scared them off.”

 

Hamish looks between the trunk and him. Randall isn’t sure he’s ever seen him look so blatantly worried. But Cassie is his world. They are so nauseatingly in love, half the time Grey leaves them behind to do what people in love do when they can also turn into giant wolves. Cassie likes to laugh that Randall is their first adopted son. Even though he’s got a family back home so huge he doesn’t know what to do with it half the time, he still likes the feeling of belonging here. He lays a hand on Hamish’s shoulder. The hierarchy has him on the lowest rung, but if it’s just the two of them he wants to make sure Hamish can lean on him. 

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hamish says, “she probably just got separated.”

 

“Of course she did. That or she’s playing a prank,” he says, “either way, you know we’re never going to hear the end of it.” 

 

A ghost of a smile tugs at Hamish’s lips and he nods. 

 

“I’m not doing dishes for a month though,” he continues, “I don’t care how good it is.” 

 

Timber’s trunk snaps closed. 

 

The sound Hamish makes isn’t human. Randall tries to stop him from going but he founds himself shoved back against the wall. It doesn’t stop him from trying again, all he catches are the edge of Hamish’s robes. He runs to the trunk and for a moment, Randall thinks that maybe—just maybe—something else has knocked the lid down. But when Hamish tugs, it stays shut. Randall doesn’t know what happens if he gets the trunk open with the hide newly returned, but they know what it means. He goes for Hamish and pulls him away. Timber’s trunk rocks violently and that inhuman noise is back. He risks looking at Hamish’s face and sees him gasping, trying to get to the trunk. But his effort to get there is halfhearted. Deep down he knows. 

  
“She’s not in there,” Randall says, “Cassie’s gone.”

 

“She’s—“ Hamish whips towards him. He meets his anger as steadily as he can, “no,” he says. 

 

“Yeah, she’s gone,” he repeats, “I’m sorry,” Hamish grips his shoulder, “I’m sorry. She’s gone.” 

 

“She’s dead,” Hamish corrects because Hamish is the leader.

 

Randall nods. 

 

Hamish collapses into him and the inhuman noises turn into very real weeping. Hamish isn’t the most emotional guy he’s ever met, but this is gut wrenching. Randall wraps his arms around him as Hamish sobs. He wishes he could get him out of the room but the wall and him seem to be the only thing keeping Hamish upright. So he hugs him and lets the older wolf hold onto him. Their entrance is legendary and Hamish weeps for longer than Randall thought he possibly could. They’ve only known each other for a few months but they’re pack. That means something Randall knows he hasn’t fully grasped yet. Hamish has accepted everything about him without a second thought. That’s always his reason. They are pack. Randall can hold him as he looses the person he loves most in the world. Eventually though, the bone deep sobs soften to something infinitely more heartbreaking as even Tundra reaches the limit. 

 

“Come on,” he says, “you can’t sleep down here.”

 

“I can’t—“ Hamish starts. 

 

“No, you can take my bed, I’ll take the couch,” he says, trying to inject a tiny bit of Hamish’s authority into his tone. It’s not that but when Hamish doesn’t immediately protest, he takes his opportunity and steers him into his room, making sure he’s on the bed. The look Hamish gives when he returns with a glass of gatorade makes him feel slightly better. “You don’t want to add a headache to this,” he says. 

 

“Worse headache,” Hamish corrects in a way that makes Randall think that ship has sailed. 

 

He sets the gatorade down and Hamish, seeming to know when a battle has been lost for once, slides into bed. Randall wants to block the windows but knows it’s pointless. If Tundra wants to go out there, he’s going to. He hopes he doesn’t. Closing his door, he thinks about packing up Cassie’s stuff but knows that’s not for him. Instead he makes his way over to the front door. He can’t lie and say that there isn’t a temptation to go out and hunt down every last person who had anything to do with this. The temptation, though, is far more to throw his head back and howl. Grey wants it almost more than Randall wants his next breath. And how ever symbiotic he considers their relationship, the truth is that at this point it might come down to a choice between howling and breathing. There’s a chance Cassie got killed by something else. But the Order is very active at the moment. They could have nothing to do with this, but if he stands out there and howls, he will lead them here. 

 

“Work with me,” he whispers to his hide, “please. Tundra needs us.” 

 

The urge to howl fades slightly. Greybeard isn’t Cannon Fodder. He doesn’t choose anything over his pack. Resting his head against the door, he risks looking through the peephole. He half expects to see one of the black robed Order members out there, but if they are it’s well beyond where he can see. He doesn’t hear the chime of magic, he just has the feeling. He’s not sure if he’s more disgusted with his own ‘instincts’ or if that’s Greybeard, sore because he isn’t allowed to go on a very brave suicide mission. Instead Randall goes and gets the saddle soap. It’s his least favorite of the chores, mostly because he hates being in that room with the feeling of two living hides watching him. But now he knows the purpose. He starts with the newest returned hide. 

 

“Sorry Cannon Fodder,” he says.

 

He takes care wiping down the trunk, polishing the hardware and oiling the hinges. One of them will open again and he really, really doesn’t want it to be this one. It’s not fair to Hamish. Or to Cassie. He cleans Midnight next and then Silverback. The last one he treats is Tundra. The most consistent of them all. He doesn’t feel that much better but he knows tomorrow will be long. So he makes sure that the coffee pot is set on its timer, giving the slightest chance that Hamish will go for that instead of the bar. Then he makes his way over to the couch and drags the blanket up. Aside from a grandparent, Randall hasn’t lost anyone before. He doesn’t feel anything but he knows that’s because this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Instead he tries to think about how Hamish taught him to quiet the rampant energy Grey sometimes injects him with. 

 

He doesn’t wake until morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider commenting or leaving kudos!


	2. Waxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“We can’t in the temple,” Alyssa says, but the worried look is giving way to a quirked up smile, “not as Medicum.”_   
>  _“So we’ll become Magistratus,” Lilith says. Alyssa huffs, “then Magus. And we can, wherever we want.”_

“It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?” Alyssa looks close to tears. It’s got nothing to do with the blood and everything to do with the failure. When she turns to her, Lilith almost feels bad, “everyone looked so upset.”

 

“Will you relax,” Lilith tells her, “shit goes wrong all the time.”

 

“But—“

 

“No buts,” she says, “I told you, you have to relax.”

 

Alyssa and relaxing have a complicated relationship. It’s hard to relax when you came across the country to escape. They all have the things that block them from what’s inside them. Some are just more obvious than others. Alyssa was doing better but one failure has her wringing her hands like they’re Neophytes again. Stepping around the puddles of blood, Lilith closes the gap between them physically. If Alyssa feels like running, the stone column she’s against prevents that.

 

“Breathe,” Lilith tells her. Alyssa takes a deep deep breath. “Let it out,” she says. “Good. Now, we can clean out this place easily if we work together,” she continues, slipping her pocket knife out. “And neither of us has to be late to class.”

 

Alyssa sighs and looks away. Lilith can practically hear the excuses tumbling around in her head. So she steps closer until Alyssa drags her eyes back over to her. She hooks her fingers into the belt loops of Alyssa’s jeans. Now she can almost hear all the thoughts in her head stop. There’s a fine line to walk here, something she’s never been very good at. But she likes Alyssa so she’s willing to at least try. She also likes the way just tugging on her belt loops is enough to get her to stop. Lilith can’t think of a better way to be late to class than doing magic and teasing Alyssa until she has to kiss her. She may not want to be late but she does have better things to do with her time than study philosophy. She has magic. What the hell else doesshe need?

 

“We can’t in the temple,” Alyssa says, but the worried look is giving way to a quirked up smile, “not as Medicum.”

 

“So we’ll become Magistratus,” Lilith says. Alyssa huffs, “then Magus. And we can, wherever we want.”

 

She is infuriatingly close to getting Alyssa to seal the deal when her alarm goes off. Alyssa pulls back, catching her lip between her teeth before taking Lilith’s pocket knife.

 

“Go to class,” she says, so close Lilith can smell the toothpaste, “i’ll take care of this,” she smiles, “i’ll be done and cleaned up by the time you get back.”

 

“Or,” Lilith suggests, “we could clean up together.”

 

She lets Alyssa have her moment of consideration.

 

“Showers after class,” she says, “now go! I can’t have you failing out.”

 

“Oh the scandal!” Lilith dramatizes, kissing the corner of her mouth and pulling back before Alyssa can chase it, “later Gator.”

 

She takes off across campus, longing for the day her magic won’t be on such a tight leash. It’s not as though class is a big deal today. Professor Duke might dislike it when she’s late but he already emailed that he was going to be out. But of course someone who was straight laced enough to wear vests everyday would get a substitute. She didn’t even know they had that in college. Getting into class she goes to the one person who seems find this as pointless as she does, but also seems unwilling to tell the professor that. Except while she doesn’t want the trouble, Randall seems to actually respect him.

 

“How many all nighters have you been pulling?” She asks, dropping next to him loudly enough to wake him from his nap. He glances to see it’s her and smiles but there’s something sad about it, “i thought you got over mono.”

 

“I did,” he says after a moment, like he needs to think to catch up.

 

“Then what gives?”

 

“My friend died.”

 

Lilith looks at him. They aren’t particularly friends, you don’t have many outside of the Order, but Randall is one of those people who immediately makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life. He’s exactly the kind of guy who would be this devastated over it. People in Lilith’s world are transitory. Especially here. They constantly move on or vanish or just die. It’s a part of life. When those things happen it usually involves false sympathies that dissolve into seeing who can send the bigger flower arrangement.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lilith says.

 

“Hey you didn’t have anything to do with it,” Randall says. Lilith rolls her eyes at how he manages to be teasing as well, “thanks though,” he adds.

 

The teacher comes in and her job seems to be nudging him as he dozes off. It’s a lot more touching than she’s used to. The Order isn’t big on physical contact, especially not during training. She’s constantly training now. When he dozes for too long after she elbows him she lets him copy her notes. The lecture seems to be longer than usual but she’s willing to chalk that up to her own disinterest. Usually she gets through with her other work. Randall scrubs at his face.

 

“Thanks,” he says.

 

“You’re welcome,” she replies, “get some coffee.”

 

“Can I buy you one?” He asks, shouldering his bag, “just to say thank you for the notes?”

 

Lilith scoffs.

 

“My notes are worth more than a cup of coffee,” she says and he chuckles in agreement, “i can’t. My girlfriend’s waiting for me.”

 

“Don’t get in trouble with the girlfriend,” he says, “i’ll get you next time.”

 

She waves him off and watches as he smiles at everyone and waves. It’s only when they aren’t looking that his shoulders stoop. Her parents have always said she’s got a knack for reading people. Randall is a nice guy in the real sense of the word, but he’s also got his secrets and his defenses. She wonders what it says about him that he views her as safe to let his guard down around. Nothing good about his judgement, that’s for sure. She will choose the Order over him every time. It’s best if they just remain friendly but not friends. People who get each other through these stupid requirements.

 

She gets back to the house and up to her room. Medicums get their own rooms that usually have one or two sharing an adjoining bathroom. She can already hear the shower going. There’s something undeniably hot about the trail of clothes Alyssa leaves on her way to the bathroom. This hooking up is as new as their titles, earned in the same way. Alyssa isn’t really her girlfriend, but friend doesn’t seem to be the right thing to call her. She doesn’t linger too much on it. She’s known her own preferences but they’re new to Alyssa. She’s not the type to push.

 

“You coming?” Alyssa calls.

 

If she’s summoned though—

 

She disrobes and kicks her clothes to the side. They balance, with Alyssa’s pastels and her jewel tones. They fit together on levels Lilith didn’t know you could with another person. Stepping into the shower she takes in the powder floral smell of her shampoo and steps under the spray. Alyssa kisses her under the water. Bolder than Lilith usually sees from her, but privacy always makes them bold. Lilith hums into the kiss as Alyssa traces her spine and reaches through her hair.

 

“You forgot something,” she says, sliding out Lilith’s hairclip. Something bright and happy sparks in her eyes before she turns sultry, “in a rush?”

 

“Maybe,” Lilith says, raising her head. Alyssa pricks her finger on the razor and navigates the clip over to the other room, placing it with the others. “Come here,” Lilith says, taking her hand and brushing her lips over the pinprick wound. Alyssa’s eyes follow her actions and suddenly Lilith finds herself pressed to the cool tile, “fuck me,” she breathes as Alyssa pins her wrists, using her height.

 

“Okay,” she says, pulling away with a straight face.

 

Lilith gets in one harsh laugh before Alyssa sinks to her knees and her mouth is being used for other things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving kudos or comments.


	3. Waning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He feels his jaw ache and he knows Greybeard’s getting pas the logic stage. He could probably pull it back but if the Order does anything, the chimes are going to make him slip.  
>  “Fine, fine!” He mutters, closing the book and getting to his feet. _

Hamish files the missing persons report as soon as he can.

 

“It’s not for me,” he explains, “Cassie’s parents—“ he looks away, “maybe this can give them some closure.”

 

“We’re not going to get a body, are we?” He asks. Hamish shakes his head and takes a swallow straight from the bottle.

 

“It’s extremely unlikely,” he says.

 

Randall shudders.

 

Death is a part of this. They have families back home though. He can’t imagine dying but he really can’t imagine his parents having nothing to bury. The police never come though. He hates the idea of someone—anyone—being just another cold case file. If she’s remembered at all by anyone else within the Order’s vicinity. Hamish hasn’t been able to get the kind of leave he deserves. No one remember Cassie as missing. No one remembers her at all. These kind of memory spells strike him as especially cruel, but maybe that’s only to the people who do remember. Secretly though he sees the benefit in Hamish having to go back to work. He’s doing his best to keep him fed and hydrated but there’s too many hours spent with Hamish down in the locker staring at Timber’s trunk. As if Cassie will pop out any moment, like this is all some big joke. One day Hamish presses a pen and paper into his hands. 

 

“Write down what you want me to do,” he says. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“If this happens,” Hamish says, “tell me what I should do with your family.”

 

“Okay,” Randall gets out, “what about—“

 

“My will is upstairs,” Hamish tells him. Randall nods, “you’re too young to have a will,” he continues, “but I need to know,” he chokes out a laugh and scrubs across his face, “I didn’t mean to get you involved like this. You’re a kid.”

 

“I know what I signed up for,” he says gripping the pen and jotting down the best instructions he can think of. He seals the envelope and gives it back to Hamish to put with his will, “it’s a good idea. Writing down what we want. We should keep doing that.”

 

Hamish pauses and Randall realizes he probably hasn’t thought about it. Not that he blames him, if he lost the person he loved he wouldn’t want to think about others joining. Hamish stares at him silently, the shock giving way to something more closed. Randall swallows and he feels Grey itch in the back of his head. Grey won’t fight Tundra outright, but he won’t lay either. It’s like there’s four of them in the room, all with different instincts and desires. But Hamish, ever the leader, nods his head like Randall has made a good point and ducks out of the room, clearing his throat as he goes. Five minutes later, Randall hears him heading down to the hide locker. Being powerless isn’t something he’s ever done well. He’s almost glad when he has to get out of there for class. Then he feels bad because he should want to stay and help Hamish, but he doesn’t know how to. 

 

He’s so lost in his own thoughts he bumps right into someone. 

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he looks to make sure he hasn’t spilled anything or made them drop anything, “I was—“

 

“Lost in thought?” 

 

He realizes belatedly that it’s Lilith and the embarrassment goes away, just slightly. She knows, even if she doesn’t know the whole story. And he imagines he can look forward to some choice words in the near future, but at the moment she’s just looking at him. She’s got an armful of books and he can see her tan skin is white with how hard she’s gripping them. He goes from embarrassed to concerned. Lilith is someone he likes, even if she plays everything close to the chest. He’s hiding being a werewolf so he’s not one to judge. He has no idea why the books she’s holding matter that much, but if they do that’s enough for him. 

 

“Yeah,” he says, “I didn’t—“ she scowls and he stops, “I’m guessing you’re fine?”

 

“Of course I’m fine. You’re not that big.” 

 

He’s got almost a foot on her, conservatively speaking. She barely hits his shoulder. He knows better than to point that out. Instead he nods in agreement as she tightens then relaxes her hands on the books. Sometimes he feels like they stand there for longer than they should. He wonders if she can sense he’s got a huge secret. Sometimes when she looks at him he feels like she can peel back everything, right down to his core. It’s a very unsettling feeling and he’s got a predator’s night vision if he wills it. 

 

“Are you feeling better?” She asks him. He shrugs, “have you ever lost anyone before?”

 

“My grandparents,” he says, “but I was a kid. I don’t think I even knew what was going on, you know?”

 

She shakes her head. 

 

“I knew what dying was when I was a kid,” she tells him. Half the things she says he imagines he’d be offended by, but there’s something in how she says them that makes him understand no part of her is taking a dig on him, “my parents explained it when I was young.” 

 

“That’s good,” he says, “my parents wanted to keep me from knowing.”

 

“Parents, right?” She deadpans.

 

He laughs. It might be the first time he’s truly laughed since Cassie died. He’s used to her being sarcastic and clever, but usually it’s when he’s trying to pay attention and not laugh. Or maybe it’s just the timing of it. Cassie was always the one pulling pranks. He hadn’t realized how much life she brought of Hamish until she wasn’t there to do it. Hamish always said that he would follow Cassie wherever. Randall is very aware that for him, the person he’d follow wherever is Hamish. It’s what got him through the doors. Now he feels almost unanchored as Hamish sinks into his grief. The joke feels almost like lifeline. He shakes his head as Lilith gives a sharp smile, but her eyes glow with the pride of a joke well landed. 

 

“I gotta get to the library,” he says, “good to see you.” 

 

He doesn’t give more than a passing thought to her having her arms full of books and heading nowhere near the library until much later. 

 

Actually he stays in the library until that point. The sun has set and Greybeard is just about losing his mind with the act of cowardice. Randall likes to think of their relationship as symbiotic. Two souls sharing a body. He tries to listen to Grey. Greybeard is brave and stubborn, a lot of the time Randall will feel like he’s an idiot and simultaneously get the distinct feeling that the thought isn’t coming from him. Most of the time that thought comes when he’s sitting still and studying for hours on end. Greybeard doesn’t like being still. Randall tries to separate his feelings from Greybeard’s enough to point out that he can’t save the world if he flunks out of school. Superman had a day job and some kind of degree. He thinks. He feels his jaw ache and he knows Greybeard’s getting past the logic stage. He could probably pull it back but if the Order does anything, the chimes are going to make him slip. 

 

“Fine, fine!” He mutters, closing the book and getting to his feet. 

 

Randall makes his way across campus to the woods. Greybeard’s frustration is mixed only with its overwhelming desire to do the two things its loves: run and fight. And maybe eat a deer. Randall doesn’t want to puke up antler fragments again but if it soothes the feeling, he’ll suffer through it. Grey’s grief is different. It mourns the loss of a good knight, but it’s a resigned feeling. Sympathy more than actual sorrow. The hides reserve their grief for their own champions, not each others. Though right now Randall has a feeling if he dropped Grey would roll its eyes. When it go new ones at least. Right now though he’s in charge. He gets to the trees and takes off his shoes and jacket, stuffing them into his bag. He shoves his sweatpants in there too and chucks his bag up in the tree as high as he can get it. 

 

Then he steps back.

 

Not physically, but mentally. He lets Grey take the reins as his body seamlessly shifts. It seems fair to let Grey take charge when they run sometimes. Or at least take dominance.  Randall is aware of how it feels, the differences in his muscles and his bones as he takes off in the form of a creature that was designed to move like this. It’s fascinating on every level. Right now it’s the easiest thing he’s done since the night Cassie didn’t come back. Randall’s been careful like he was warned, not to give into the primal urges he has. Except in very specific circumstances. Like this one. He lets Grey tear through the woods. He doesn’t hate running alone, but Grey likes knowing that Hamish is out there. That Cassie is out there. Pack matters to Grey more than anything else and that’s something Randall fully respects and understands. 

 

The run feels hollow but he does feel better as he makes it back to his tree. He pulls down the bag and throws on his clothes, shoving on his sneakers. No clothes were ruined in the run which is always a minor, but important, positive in his book. He figures he’ll retrace his steps back along the library route, to make sure he’s good and exhausted when he gets home. 

 

“Do you live in the library or something?”

 

It’s his turn to be shocked as Lilith seems to appear next to him. One eyebrow arched as she surveys him. Randall almost gives into the urge to check and see if he’s got leaves in his hair or blood in his teeth. Or, worse, if hair is over his sweatshirt. It’s an irrational thing and really none of LIlith’s business. Her hands are free of the books she had before, fingers shoved deep into her pockets like she doesn’t know what to do without them. He glances behind him to see if he can figure out where she came from, but she could have bene in the reference section and they just missed each other. 

 

“I was actually just heading home,” he says, “why?”

 

“You’re breathing hard,” she points out, “library’s not that exciting.”

 

“Clearly you’ve never been in the romance section,” he says. 

 

Lilith snorts. 

 

Randall can’t honestly picture either of them in there but he offers her a grin none the less. She cocks her head to the side like she’s considering him before shaking it as if she’s had too much to drink. 

 

“You get your work done?” He asks. She nods. 

 

“You all caught up?” 

 

“Almost,” he says. She gives him one of those uncanny looks, like she can see down to his soul, “what?” He asks slowly. 

 

“I’m trying to see if you’re okay,” she says. 

 

“You could ask?” He offers and winces at how that sounds, “I’m an open book,” he explains quickly, “scouts honor.” 

 

Lilith rolls her eyes at him. 

 

“Of course you were a boyscout,” she says. 

 

“I’m guessing you weren’t?” He tries, “Girl Scouts I mean.”

 

She stares at him hard. Randall knows doesn’t look like the type but he also never would have pegged Hamish for being able to turn into a massive mythological creature.  He actually doesn’t expect her to tell him to fuck off, though he’s sure that it’s crossed her mind. 

 

“No,” she says, “I grew up on a reservation, that’s not a big thing there.”

 

It’s the most personal detail he has from her. It’s obvious she’s not white. He is, almost painfully so.  While he’s an open book though, Lilith seems to be welcoming but play her best cards a bit closer to the chest. They haven’t exactly built a friendship on sharing things. It’s more of a comfortable acquaintance. But Randall has yet to meet someone he can’t see himself being friends with. And even when he figures he will, Lilith isn’t someone he’d put in that category. 

 

“Wow, was that an amazing place to grow up? I’ve never even been to a reservation before,” he says. Surprise flashes in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. Or maybe she wasn’t sure she should tell him. “We should get coffee sometime and talk about it. My upbringing was way more boring.” 

 

“We could but you need the sleep,” she says.

 

“I meant when it’s daylight,” he tells her, “I definitely need the sleep.” 

 

“Good luck with that.”

 

He grins and salutes her before shouldering his bag and heading home. Though he leaves her standing by the library, he feels like someone’s watching him and wanders around off campus until that feeling goes away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider commenting or leaving kudos! It makes it easier to update.


	4. First Quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Human or animal?” Lilith asks. Chancellor Stone looks at her coolly as Alyssa’s head snaps over._  
>  “Don’t try to be cheeky,” Chancellor Stone says, “either.”  
> “Then yes,” Lilith says, “my father’s a hunter.” 

“Prepare this,” Chancellor Stone says, tearing a piece of paper and holding it out. Lilith takes it and scans over the ingredients, “your potion making talent needs to be refined.”

 

Lilith nods, she knows that’s Vera-speak for telling her she’s quite good and needs to be pushed to take the next step. The ingredients are complicated and the potion will be difficult to make. Not the kind of thing entrusted to someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Lilith takes the list and sets about preparing the ingredients and brewing. She is good at focusing on what needs to be done, but the truth is she hates the feeling of being another cog in the wheel. Brewing takes time but Lilith doesn’t care. Her life is on a path and she is aware of how it will go. There’s no rush, no need for the frantic like how Alyssa operates. She is good because she is thorough. The potion comes together seamlessly as most of hers do.  Brews like this have always been something she’s done, though her skills have gotten better. 

 

For Lilith, Belgrave is not so much an escape as it is a key. 

 

The Order sets her on a path that isn’t like the one she thought she would be on. It fits the puzzle pieces together in a very different way. But it’s an opportunity out of the life she was going to lead. It’s a chance. Just like the acceptance letter from Belgrave was a chance. It’s not one she has any intention of wasting. She can smell the sharp scent of the potion and she knows it’s meant for cleansing. Her parents said she had a rebellious streak a mile wide. She’s very familiar with all kinds of cleansings. This one seems more for an outside surface than an inner one, but nothing she put in the pot is technically toxic. As long as she’s not the one who has to drink it, that’s fine. She decants it into bottles, taking care when the glass stings her fingertips. Packing the bottles she brings them to the Temple. Alyssa is there doing her own preparations.  Namely she’s balancing on the ladder directing magic up to clean the glass. Something possessive and warm curls in Lilith’s chest at the sight of her pocket knife peaking out of Alyssa’s back pocket. 

 

“Chancellor Stone,” she says, setting the crate down. Chancellor Stone gives the bottles a hard look and picks one up, unscrewing the lid and dipping her nail in, placing a drop on her lower lip. Lilith fights the urge to be insulted as her work is checked. Chancellor Stone replaces the lid with a cool shrug, “I assume it’s satisfactory?”

“You assume correctly,” she says and doesn’t elaborate, “you may go.”

 

Lilith watches her walk away, crate in hand. She glances back at Alyssa who shoots her an apologetic smile. Lilith reminds herself what this is for. Tries to take her own advice. But she’s never done well with being talked down to. Her part in the preparation is done. You don’t offer to help others in the Order. Not once you’re past a certain level and not until you reach the next one. Everyone is fostered with a dose of competition. The strong survive and the weak have no place there. Lilith wishes she could stay in the temple, but she can hear Chancellor Stone’s shoes coming back. The woman is all sharp edges and Lilith has no idea how she is supposed to learn from her. Not that such a thing has ever stopped her from learning. She looks over at Alyssa one last time, but Alyssa is absorbed back in her work. So she ducks out of the temple and back into the other world. 

 

Redoing things is Lilith’s least favorite part. Everyone is nervous for the redo of the incantation after it failed last time. Even Chancellor Stone looks concerned. Or as concerned as someone like her will every let themselves look. Lilith hates the pressure of it. Incantations go wrong for any number of reasons, but too many deaths means that they have to then waste time on fixing that. That’s the thing Lilith’s always hated about this place. About the Order. The falseness of it. She hates how everyone tries to hide everything all the damn time. Just like she hates how Belgrave’s manicured lawns hides all the ‘freak accidents’. She misses the honesty of where she came from. They don’t have anyone to lie to where she comes from. They are the what people like to lie about. 

 

“Professor Duke?” 

 

The man ahead of her pauses, turns and looks genuinely surprised to see her. He always looks like he’s walked out of some 1940s ad for cigarettes. He’s about one fedora away from being in one of those old black and white movies. By far the most modern thing she’s ever seen him in is a pair of black jeans and even then it’s never without a vest or a tie or something. She’s sure it’s a grab at authority. On a good day he looks like he belongs in school. And not in college. So it’s disconcerting to see him with one of his patterned shirts unbuttoned and his vest open. It feels like he’s exposing some kind of vulnerability. 

  
“Hello Miss—,” he starts

 

“Bathory,” Lilith supplies, “from your core class? You save the hard questions for me and Randall to see if we’re paying attention?” 

 

“Yes, of course, I’m so sorry,” he says. 

 

“I was going to ask if you’re feeling better but,” she motions at him. 

 

“That’s fair,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose and smiling tightly, “the answer’s probably—“

 

“Kind of obvious?” She offers. He drops his hand and nods, “just because your tie’s undone.” 

 

Maybe she is Order material if she’s starting to lie. He raises an eyebrow and she rethinks that. For a moment he looks alarmingly like Chancellor Stone. But then the stern look cracks and he frowns down at his outfit as if coming to some kind of realization. She’s surprised when he loses the outer shirt, vest and tie with strong, easy movements and puts them over his arm so it’s just him in his white t-shirt and pressed khakis. 

 

“Maybe now no-one will recognize me,” he says. 

 

“You might have a shot at that,” she says, disbelieving her own eyes. He looks like Chris Evans in that movie Alyssa put on one night. Of course she had better things to pay attention to than Chris Evans getting all steroidal, “I hope you feel better,” she says instead. 

 

“Thank you,” he says, “can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer,” she nods, “have you spoken to Randall recently? Sometimes that whole student-teacher dynamic can get odd. I was wondering if he’s doing alright.” 

 

“He’s doing ok,” she says, choosing her words carefully. She might value honesty and Randall might claim to be an open book, but, sharing people’s business isn’t something she does. “Not sleeping but what college student does, right?” 

 

Professor Duke chuckles but it’s a hollow sound. He presses his lips together like she’s said something huge. She doesn’t know why a professor has an interest in Randall’s sleeping habits, but she makes a note to bring it up the next time they bump into each other.  She knows Randall is going to be Premed. Why someone from the philosophy department is taking an interest in him, she can’t say. She knows Professor Duke was Prelaw at one point, but again, Randall’s such a rule follower she doesn’t know why a would be lawyer would care. 

 

“Thank you,” he says. Lilith nods and tries not to feel like she’s somehow betrayed Randall, “I’ll let you get to campus.” 

 

“Goodbye Professor Duke,” she says, watching as he tucks his hands into his pockets and walks away. 

 

She watches him go with the unsettling feeling rooting in her. She knows she can’t be getting distracted. Not this close to redoing the spell. But she thinks that someone as nice as Randall being in trouble with a professor is definitely something she’d qualify as a distraction. Making her way towards the quad, she realizes somewhat belatedly that she has no idea how to track Randall down. Or even what she would say to him if she found him. Our philosophy professor was asking about your health? She already feels like she overstepped something mentioning about how she grew up. 

 

“Hey!” She turns to see Alyssa come running up to her, “I was looking for you,” Alyssa looks at her, “what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Lilith says, “I’m over thinking something.”

 

“Oh no,” Alyssa gasps, mock drama on every word, “I must be rubbing off on you.”

 

Lilith snorts despite herself. Alyssa isn’t out of the closet but the double meaning of her words is lost on neither of them. It’s the first time she’s cracked a joke like that on the middle of campus though. It’s bold even for her. Alyssa only pauses momentarily before continuing on. 

 

“We need to get back,” she says.

 

Lilith glances around, hoping that Randall will do that incredibly annoying thing where he just appears at a super inconvenient time. But no such luck. The one time she wants to see him, he’s nowhere. And you don’t refuse the Order. 

 

“Let’s go,” she says. 

 

They hurry back and into Chancellor Stone’s office. Lilith can’t believe she’s here twice in as many days. Chancellor Stone is reading through something and keeps her eyes on it as they come inside. She flicks her fingers and the doors slam shut. She reads for another moment, just enough for Lilith to roll her eyes at the theatrics of if. Then she folds her hands and looks at them. 

 

“As our two newest medicums, you were not involved in this incantation the last time we did it. But the time has come. You have performed to the satisfaction of myself and your seniors. You will join us.”

 

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Alyssa says. Lilith echoes the statement but she can sense something isn’t right. 

 

“This is a crucial step on your road to power,” Chancellor Stone continues, “and one of the hardest. Have either of you witnessed a death before?” They both nod, “have either of you caused it?” 

 

They glance at each other. Witnessing death is one thing, causing it is another. She can’t help but feel like this is some kind of test for them as much as it is for their rise in the Order. Lilith is not in the mood, but she should have expected it. Especially when she’s not in the mood. 

 

“No,” Alyssa says. 

 

“Human or animal?” Lilith asks. Chancellor Stone looks at her coolly as Alyssa’s head snaps over. 

 

“Don’t try to be cheeky,” Chancellor Stone says, “either.”

 

“Then yes,” Lilith says, “my father’s a hunter.” 

 

Chancellor Stone nods thoughtfully. 

 

“And did you feel anything when you killed the animal the first time?” She asks.

 

“Death is a part of life,” Lilith says, parroting back what her father told her, “it’s as natural as being alive.”

 

Chancellor Stone stares at her silently for a moment. She can see Alyssa staring much wider eyed. She keeps her gaze focused on Chancellor Stone. She doesn’t think about how much she cried when it happened, how sorry she felt. How she had to be bribed out of her room because she felt like she couldn’t be part of the world. She learned but it was only after hours, days really, of explanations. Then she learned to believe what was being said. That’s the moment she focuses on in case Chancellor Stone is thinking of trying anything mental. Whatever microscope she’s under though, she seems to pass and Chancellor Stone nods. 

 

“This ritual requires a sacrifice,” she says, “you will be instructed further but you will play a hand in this. If you are having trouble with that, come speak to me.” 

 

Lilith has a hard time picturing Chancellor Stone being sympathetic about anything. Let alone guilt at something the Order is making them do. Lilith’s not about to call bullshit on it though. They step outside of the office and last until they’re once again outside the building before Alyssa takes a deep breath. 

 

“Killing people,” she says. Lilith shrugs, “you’re okay with it?”

 

“What do you think that blood in the temple was from?” She asks. 

 

Alyssa shifts her weight. Lilith fights back the urge to yell. Alyssa cannot be one of those people who is fine as long as she’s just bad thing adjacent. She’s better than that. Lilith knows she’s better than that. There’s something distant in Alyssa’s eyes as she looks at her though. Something even she cannot fully bridge when she closes her eyes and smiles. 

 

“You’re right. Duh,” she says. 

 

“Alyssa—“

 

“No, you’re right. I have to go clear my head. I’ll see you later.” 

 

Alyssa hitches her bag on her shoulder and hurries off. Lilith watches her go, fingertips still outstretched like she can grab her back. Something uncomfortable churns in her stomach. Is Alyssa going to be able to participate in this? Lilith knows the Order doesn’t give second chances. It doesn’t matter the reasons behind it, if it was an ‘honest’ mistake or a crisis of conscious or whatever. If you fuck up you’re out. It really is as simple as that. An expulsion of a medicum hasn’t happened in decades. But that’s a cold comfort if its Alyssa blazing that path. The powerless feeling makes her eyes sting but she puts that aside. She has to be on her top game if she’s to save Alyssa from her own consciousness. She tears her eyes from the spot where she was standing. She realizes belatedly who she’s looking around for. 

 

But Randall isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider commenting or leaving kudos! I love hearing from you.


	5. First Quarter, Mid-Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I want death,” she blurts out. Chancellor Stone looks at her cooly, “i did it on—“  
>  “On purpose?” Chancellor Stone finishes, “you’re not that clever.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there is a mention of implied sexual assault. It’s not graphic but I don’t want anyone to be surprised.

Lilith knows better than to blindly ignore her instincts. She likes to think she’s being discretionary with which she listens to and which she ignores. But she’s nervous for this spell. The bad omens keep adding up. Arguing with loved ones, past failures, missing friends—she can argue all she wants about not truly being in love with Alyssa or considering Randall a friend but the signs keep coming. The worst is the powerless feeling that comes with it. She knows she could give a thousand reasons and they will be dismissed. Even the hand that trails down her spine can’t distract her from it.

 

“What’s wrong,” Alyssa asks

 

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Lilith admits.

 

Alyssa sits up. Lilith turns to her. The setting sun paints her all kinds of reds and pinks. The warm colors make her look like a work of art, as much as the red looks like blood. She kisses the back of Alyssa’s hand and tries to commit the sight to memory. So whenever she closes her eyes, no matter what happens she will see this. Alyssa combs her fingers through her hair and along her jaw, kissing her in a soft way that only she seems to be able to do.

 

“It’s going to be fine,” she says, “what do you always tell me to do? Breathe.” She accentuates the last word, turning it into an exaggerated exhale. Lilith can still smell the cherry on her breath and it feels like forbidden fruit all over again. “Turn, i’ll braid your hair.”

 

Lilith never wants to look away but accepts the offer, turning so Alyssa can plait her hair. The low braids work well with the mask. When she’s done, Alyssa kisses the nape of her neck and runs her hands down her arms. She slides off the bed.

 

“Up,” she says, tugging Lilith with her before she can roll back over, “we can’t be late.”

 

They dress and hurry to the Temple.

 

“Medicum Drake, Medicum Bathory, scrub the Temple and await us,” Chancellor Stone snaps.

 

“Does she mean—“ Alyssa begins.

 

“Now!”

 

Two buckets and brushes are waiting for them. Her feelings of terror should be going away, but the throbbing in her palms is back. This is the side of hunting she’s always hated. The preparing and the waiting. The woman’s part of it. Alyssa hands her a bucket and a brush and picks up her own. They get to work on brushing down the temple so it glimmers like a freshly washed grill. Lilith wishes she was out with the rest of them.

 

“I bet its a serial killer,” Alyssa says. Lilith snorts, “how do you know its not?” She challenges.

 

“Fair enough,” Lilith says, “so we’re doing the world a favor.”

 

“Yes,” Alyssa says, “it’s better without them.”

 

They look around to make sure it’s good before putting the buckets away and sliding on their masks.

 

“Oh, here,” Alyssa says, “i forgot to give it back.”

 

Lilith looks at the pocket knife and almost tells Alyssa to keep it, but the doors open and to save them from being yelled at for disrespect she takes it back and hides it in her sleeve. The rest of the members file in silently. The masks have a way of simplifying things. Narrowing the world to nothing but what is in front of you. They are all looking at the sacrifice for the incantation. Except her. She looks to see Alyssa ball her hands into fists in the sleeves of her robes and theforcibly open her hands. Satisfied Alyssa is okay, she looks instead at the sacrifice. At best an idiot for falling for the Orders tricks. But maybe a serial killer. Maybe someone who the world would be better off without.

 

Except it isn’t.

 

It’s Randall.

 

Lilith stares as they bring him in, glad for the mask but painfully exposed all the same. He’s limp, slumped between the two members and his shoes drag against the stones. They motion them forward and Lilith steps on autopilot as they get Randall onto the altar. He slumps forward against her. Lilith barely knows him. Stupid open book who just tries to make everyone feel better. He saved a kid while he was coming down with mono for fucks sake. He’s good. She knows he’s good. They strip him to the waist and guide him down, stretching his hands up and locking the cuffs in place. He’s disgustingly pale because he’s always in the library. Because he wants to be a doctor and also because he peer tutors. Because of course he does. Lilith takes off his shoes and cuffs his ankles. She’s no stranger to death. Even of people she cares about. But Randall is—he’s innocent. And good.

 

The world isn’t going to be a better place because he’s dead.

 

She knows that in her bones. But the Order doesn’t. Worse, it wouldn’t matter. Becoming all powerful means nothing if it happens after Randall dies. There’s a rushing sound in her ears. This is unnatural. Randall has more people to help. The world isn’t done with him yet. The unfairness of it makes her clench her fist and she can feel her nail slice her skin.No, not her nail. The knife. Which goes deeper in than her nails ever could.

 

Her blood touches the altar.

 

It’s almost invisible against the wet stone, but she knows it’s there. It is an honest mistake, one she could easily fix by admitting it and taking the punishment. But her lips stay silent. Randall’s foot goes over the blood as she turns her hand and lets the blood well up in her palm instead. They all take a few steps back as Chancellor Stone starts the incantation. Even in his drugged state Randall’s face shows discomfort at the heat as his body arches towards her outstretched hand. Lilith measures her breathingas things get hotter and hotter. Chancellor Stone continues the chant and when she brings down the thing that would seal it and finish Randall off, it fizzles out.

 

Lilith would have preferred an explosion. For a moment everything is silent and then she gets her wish. The fizzle seems to have set off a bomb. That’s the best way she can describe the shockwave that erupts in all directions from the altar. She barely manages to keep her head from being split against a column. When the shockwave is done, she stares at the destruction. Everyone is splayed like rag dolls. The lucky ones are moving to their feet, some cradling limbs that are probably broken. Alyssa nods at her to show she’s okay. When Chancellor Stone gets to her feet, the nostrils of her mask are stained red. In the middle of the chaos, Randall goes limp again, but Lilith can see his chest rising and falling shallowly. But it is rising and falling. He’s alive, for now.

 

“Finish this,” Chancellor Stone orders, pressing her fingers to her nose to stop the bleeding. Lilith steps forward and grabs the knife, no full plan in mind, “now! Medicum. He’s waking up.”

 

Lilith looks over to see Randall’s eyes slowly opening. She can make this quick and painless. Or she can press her had to her own broken flesh and reactivate the spell, sending another shockwave through the them as the magic rebounds. Those who are still alive are dazed and it’s only proximity that keeps her from joining them. The cuffs get blown free at the same time. She pokes Randall with the side of the knife, fully waking him. He bolts upright and stares at her. She goes to move and his hand grabs her sleeve.

 

“Why?” He mouths.

 

She throws him off and he seems to get the message, flinging himself from the table and taking off. Lilith runs after him, grabbing the oblivion powder as she goes. If she’s very lucky she will just look like a desperate medicum trying to fix a terrible mistake. He’s fast, even barefoot. She barely manages to keep up until they reach the woods. Randall looks terrified and confused. His eyes go to her and he opens his mouth. Before he can say anything she blows the powder into his face and watches as he collapses. He won’t be out for more than a moment with the dose she’s given him. He doesn’t have that much to forget. She ducks into the woods but goes slowly enough that she can hear him groan as he wakes up.

 

She doesn’t think twice before she goes back.

 

Chancellor Stone stands in front of the altar, one hand framing the blood splatter.Two Order members are holding Alyssa. Lilith looks at the blood and then at the Chancellor. It’s amazing how she feels nothing as she places her palm in the Chancellor’s claw. She whispers an incantation and Lilith’s palm stings viciously as the blood on the table hisses. Chancellor Stone throws her hand down.

 

“How could you be so stupid,” she spits.

 

“I don’t know,” Lilith says, wondering if she will ever feel like her feet are on the ground again.

 

“Search the woods. We have no idea if she grabbed the right powder,” Chancellor Stone barks, “clear the room.”

 

“Chancellor Stone!” Alyssa cries, “wait! Please!”

 

“Medicum Drake. Collect yourself,” Chancellor Stone snaps, “escort her out of here.”

 

The last tether seems to snap and Lilith feels like she’s floating away. But she’s standing there. Dimly she realizes that they think this was a mistake. Is it better to be killed as an idiot or a traitor? Do they think so little of her? She wants to die in that instant. Die nobly, or however nobly she can manage. She doesn’t even know how they kill witches now a days. But maybe being burned at the stake would bring her back from this out of body experience. Chancellor Stone says something and Lilith finds she can’t move. Chancellor Stone undoes her outer robe and mask, placing both on the altar. Then she undoes her braids. Without warning she motions and the cool air hits Lilith’s stomach as her shirt rips. Her pants follow. Lilith realizes what is going to happen. She knows of girls who go into the woods drunk and come out broken and shamed.

 

“I want death,” she blurts out. Chancellor Stone looks at her cooly, “i did it on—“

 

“On purpose?” Chancellor Stone finishes, “you’re not that clever.”

 

Horror floods her as the Chancellor grabs a fistful of powder. This is a different kind of powder. Everything is going to be gone. If she could move she would be fighting. But she can’t. She’s powerless. The only thing she can do is stare.

 

“Do it,” she says but what’s meant to come out as a challenge sounds more like a request.

 

Then she’s gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment or kudos. It definitely helps me be inspired to keep going.


	6. Last Quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“i’m the closest thing to a doctor, so, doctors rules.”_   
>  _“I hate doctors,” she says, lip curling._   
>  _“Thats because you haven’t had me as a doctor,” Randall says._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there is a mention of implied sexual assault and drug use. It’s not graphic but I don’t want anyone to be surprised.

Greybeard is pissed off. 

 

Randall is grateful for the hide to take over with the pounding going on in his head. It feels like he’s been hit over the head with a bat. Giving way to the hide feels like relief. Once he has the reins though, Greybeard is very clear about what it wants. While Greybeard doesn’t share Midnight’s recklessness or Tundra’s cunning, Greybeard is brave. And Greybeard is determined to follow the chimes for as long as it can. The chimes mean magic and magic needs to be stopped. So Greybeard listens and runs as fast as possible towards the rapidly fading sounds. 

 

Greybeard is so focused, it almost trips over the girl.

 

Randall rips his control back. Grey might want revenge but Randall sure as hell is not running away from someone who needs help. Sure offering help naked in the woods isn’t ideal but he’s got priorities. They’re close to the Order too and he can’t risk them hurting her. He thinks logically this is probably a trap but still, it’s a person. Crouching down he looks for any obvious injuries but there’s nothing. Her clothes are ripped but her skin is whole. Her arms are around her face, like she’s shielding herself. 

 

“Hey, hey! Can you hear me?” He tries to get her attention but he gets no response. He touches her neck and feels her pulse. She is breathing. Carefully he pulls her arm down and pushes her hair back. “Lilith?” Horror floods him, “no no no—“ he grips his hands and forces the panic back, “Lilith! It’s Randall. Can you hear me?” 

 

She says nothing. She doesn’t even groan. She’s sleeping like she’s drugged. Or spelled, his mind supplies. Lilith being used as an Order pawn makes his stomach clench in disgust. Anyone taking advantage of her makes him feel sick. Maybe a little more than anyone taking advantage of anyone. But only a little. Lilith is funny though, he likes seeing her when they cross paths and he’s been almost subconsciously looking for her when he steps out of the house. The rips on her clothes are nauseating. She has a girlfriend. He doesn’t even know if she likes guys too but he knows she’s got a girlfriend. This is a violation of her choices on every level.

 

“Grey,” he says his hide’s name, “you gotta behave,” he says, “she smells like magic but that doesn’t—“ he feels Grey’s outrage, “i thought you were brave!” He snaps under his breath, “we have to get her out of here and I can’t do it naked. Come on!”

 

Grey makes him feel a huge amount of disgust but resignation. Randall drops into his wolf form and scoops her up. Grey looks back at the slight glimmer of chance they might stop the Order once and for all and Randall rebukes him. Sacred missions are second to living, breathing, drugged girls. Greybeard lets him know how many deers he’s going to be picking out of his teeth the next time they go out. At some point he thinks he feels Lilith stir but he just runs faster. She doesn’t need to know werewolves are a thing.Closer to campus he picks up the scent of his own stuff. He sets Lilith by the tree and jumps up, grabbing down his backpack. He puts on the shorts he’s got in there. Thankfully he also has his sweatshirt and his sneakers. He gets the shoes on and comes back, dropping the other stuff where he thinks it would land if he dropped it in surprise. Then he crouches in front of Lilith.

 

“Lilith!” He says firmly, tapping her face, “hey! Hey! Tell me what you took,” her features pinch, “that’s it, come on. It’s Randall, premed student and impromptu doctor. Look at me,” he says, slowly her eyes open,” Hey,” he says, “what did you—“ she heaves and he quickly gets an arm around her so she doesn’t faceplant. With his other hand he grabs her hair back so that doesn’t get covered too. There’s a lot of white, he notes. “Get it up,” he says. His phone is buried and when he gets it out he sees Hamish has just ended a call and is calling him again. He picks up the call immediately, “I’m fine!” He says first, “i’m with a friend, i think she’s overdosing. She’s puking up white stuff. I was running.”

 

He prays Hamish understands and nearly cries when he speaks.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“By the woods—“ he stops and looks at Lilith.

 

“I’m on my way,” Hamish says. 

 

Randall thinks about the precious little he knows. Lilith is blunt and honest on a number of things, but there’s a high number she doesn’t talk about. He can count most of the facts he knows on his fingers. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she doesn’t like the vulnerability. She’s anything but an open book. Or she’s an open book on a very specific page.

 

“No,” he says, “just tell me what to do. This stuff doesn’t look natural.”

 

“It’s not,” Hamish says, “either way.”

 

“Can I call 911?” He asks.

 

“Not if this is magic. If the Order is after her she’ll be a sitting duck there. Make sure she gets it up. I’ll patrol.”

 

Hamish ends the call and Randall knows he’s got a point. They cannot draw attention to themselves. But Randall can’t risk Lilith being alone. He’ll stay for as long as he possibly can. Lilith groans and pushes herself upright.

 

“What happened?” She gets out, lifting her head. 

 

“I don’t know,” he says, “i was running and I found you. Here,” he continues, helping her into the jacket and zipping it up, “what party were you at?” She frowns, “were you at a party?” He tries again. She shakes her head slightly, “shit, sorry, you puked and I thought you took something—“

 

“I did?” She looks around, confusion clear, “i don’t—“ she stops and presses her hand to her forehead, “where am I?”

 

“It’s okay,” Randall says quickly, “you’re at Belgrave, we’re in the woods,” she takes a shallow breath, then another, “hey hey hey look it’s me. Randall. Remember we met the first day? During the icebreakers?” Her eyes focus on him, “take a deep breath,” he advises, “like this.” He breathes exaggeratedly and after two breaths she copies him, “did someone give you something?”

 

“I don’t remember,” she says, panic creeping into her eyes.

 

“Okay, okay—no no no,” he says as she starts breathing shallower, “deep breath. You’re okay. I’m here.”

 

“Don’t tell,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut.

 

“I won’t but you gotta stay awake. I have to make sure you’re okay.”

 

She cracks an eye and looks at him.

 

“You were gonna be premed, right?”

 

“I am premed,” he says. They look at each other, something cold starting in his stomach.

 

“What am I?” She asks.

 

“Hey don’t worry about what you can’t remember right now. Just focus on breathing,” he says. She opens her mouth to argue, “i’m the closest thing to a doctor, so, doctors rules.”

 

“I hate doctors,” she says, lip curling.

 

“Thats because you haven’t had me as a doctor,” Randall says. Her eyeroll feels like a reward. He digs in his bag and finds a water bottle, “here,” he says. She takes a sip, “lets get back to campus,” he suggests, “come on.”

 

He throws his backpack on and helps her up. Her legs buckle and he gets an arm around her shoulders. Half dazed he still knows carrying her isn’t going to be welcome until it’s essential. She gets her legs under her and he puts an arm around her to help take some of her weight. She frowns and looks up at him.

 

“You’re so tall.”

 

“Just comparatively,” he says. 

 

“You calling me short?” She asks, “you’re an idiot.”

 

He smiles at that. If she can be insulting she must be feeling slightly better. He takes her to one of the benches and settles her on it. She folds her arms along the back and rests her head on them, looking at him. 

 

“What happened?” She asks. 

 

“I found you when I was running,” Randall says, clinging to the grain of truth in the statement, “now I’m just making sure you’re okay.” 

 

“Where’s your shirt?”

 

He winces at that. It’s definitely not normal to be sitting on a park bench shirtless at some ungodly hour in the morning, but it’s been a weird night. He doesn’t point out that he’s got no idea where it is and she’s wearing his sweatshirt. However long he can keep her from noticing the state of her clothes he’s going to do. 

 

“I didn’t want it to get sweaty,” he says. 

 

“You’re weird.” 

 

He clutches his heart like she’s wounded him. In the most uncharacteristic thing he’s ever seen, she giggles. Or laughs, more accurately. It would be adorable if the situation was any different. As it is, the smile he gives is not that big. But it seems to satisfy her. Over her head he can see a shadow dart through the woods. For a moment he thinks its an Order member, but then he sees it’s Hamish. A thumb presses against his forehead. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

  
“Nothing,” he says quickly, “I worried my friend,” he explains. Lilith drops her hand, “but at least it was to take care of my other friend.”

 

“Are we friends?” She asks. 

 

“Yes, not good friends but we’re friends,” he explains, “you’ll remember.” She nods. It’s weird to see her so drugged and trusting, “are you feeling any better?”

 

“No,” she says, “I feel bad,” she lifts her head, “I’m tired.”

 

Randall looks over at Hamish. Hamish makes a gesture that clearly says he shouldn’t do what he’s about to do. Randall thinks this is the only option. He doesn’t know Lilith’s dorm, he’s pretty sure she lives off campus. Hamish has pointed out the hospital is not a good option. Which leaves their clubhouse. He goes to get up and Hamish glares. Only Knights are supposed to go to the clubhouse. The headquarters as Hamish calls it. Randall looks at Lilith whose drawn her legs up. He feels his mouth go dry. He feels Greybeard warning him to be careful, but his hide doesn’t tell him to shut up. The nerves he feels could equally be excitement. 

 

“Okay, we’re gonna go back to my place,” he says, “come on.” 

 

She gets to her feet. Getting to their house isn’t easy when Lilith can barely walk in a straight line. Fortunately that gives him plenty of time to think about what the hell he’s going to say to Hamish. And Hamish plenty of time to put clothes on. Hamish opens the door and glares as he guides Lilith up the path. She frowns at him. 

 

“Do you go to school with us?” She asks. Hamish looks over the top of her head at Randall who shrugs desperately. “You look old for a student.”

 

“We interrupted his beauty sleep,” he explains. Lilith shrugs, “come on, lets get you on the couch.” 

 

He can’t put her on the bed because she is going to wake up in a few hours and the worst thing he can imagine is for her to wake up on a bed in a strange place. Hamish is blissfully silent as he gets Lilith onto their couch and grabs an afghan to cover her with. When he turns around, she’s asleep. He makes sure she’s on her side in case Hamish kills him. At least one of them should make it through the night. Carefully he sets his backpack down and holds his hands out. 

Hamish pulls him into the hide locker by his ear. 

 

“Ow!” Randall says, “what the hell—“

 

The older guy hugs him. 

 

Randall’s been hugged by Hamish before but it’s those quick in the moment ones that are more back pats than hugs. Hamish is not a hugger. But he hugs him and despite the throbbing in his ear, Randall can tell he was scared. He hugs him back for a long moment before Hamish steps back. 

 

“Where were you?”

 

“In the woods,” Randall says. 

 

“For hours?” Hamish presses. 

 

“Yeah,” he says, “Greybeard’s all cooped up. Then I heard the bells and I was trying to find the Order—“ Hamish pinches the bridge of his nose, “they were doing a lot of magic!”

“I swear Grey and Cannon Fodder were mates,” he mutters. 

 

“Hey!” Randall objects, “I’m still alive.”

 

“By dumb luck,” Hamish says, his face getting serious, “you haven’t been sleeping. You barely come out of your room—“

 

“I’m trying to give you space! You’re mourning!”

 

“Cassie knew the risks,” Hamish cuts in, “we all do.  We are Knights. The only chance we have is if we trust each other,” he looks at Timber’s trunk, “I’m sorry,” he says, “to both of you.” 

 

“Hamish—“

 

“No,” he says, holding up a hand, “you’re alive. We’ll fix the rest in the morning,” he continues, “including whatever happened to Ms. Bathory. Right now, all of us need sleep.” 

 

Randall knows he’s right. But it also strikes him as horribly unfair. That Hamish has to just move on. That Cassie’s not there to be the one he depends on. It’s just the two of them. He misses Cassie too. Not in the same way that Hamish does, but in his own way. Hamish opens the door, as if to prove that he’s not going to spend the night down here like Randall knows he’s been doing. Randall walks over to Timber’s trunk and puts his hand on top of it. 

 

“Long is the road,” he says, not finishing the other part of that, “rest well.” 

 

Hamish does something resembling a smile and claps him on the back as they leave the hide locker. Before he goes up to bed, he checks on Lilith. She’s still on her side but she’s managed to curl back into a ball, her arms up around her face as if she can defend herself from something. Randall puts a glass of water by her. He leaves his door open in an effort to hear if she needs anything and falls asleep. It makes no difference. He doesn’t hear anything. 

 

He doesn’t even hear her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment or kudos. It's a little bit lonely putting chapters out into the void.


	7. Waxing Crescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How would you feel about not having to worry about someone slipping things in your drink?” He says._   
>  _“Sounds fucking great,” she replies._   
>  _“What about running naked through the woods?”_   
>  _“Better than being carried through them."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there is a mention of implied sexual assault and drug use. It’s not graphic but I don’t want anyone to be surprised.

It’s a blur.

 

Lilith spends the next two weeks trying to patch things together and suffering death by a thousand cuts. Half the time she doesn’t want to leave her dorm room. She does everything right. She goes to the hospital and gets the kit, she submits for bloodwork and files everything. And instead she is asked why she was wearing a tank top. And how many drinks did she have from how many boys. And yes its terrible but also college, right. It goes around campus like wildfire. She can tell who knew her by how long they look at her when she walks by, how loudly they laugh. 

 

Lilith refuses to give them the satisfaction of being emotional about it.

 

Especially the one who looks at her too long. She figures her name out by looking through the student directory. There’s a thousand questions she has but the pity in Alyssa’s eyes makes her stop. One time she thinks she sees her about to say something but then Chancellor Stone appears and takes her away. Alyssa seems like a straight laced ass kisser anyway so it doesn’t surprise her. For some reason she gets the feeling she’s being judged by her most of all. Then again she’s all too aware of how girls turn on each other. Like what happened to her will taint them too. That doesn’t stop Lilith from wanting to rub her hands all over Alyssa to see if it’ll be true. 

 

She ignored the people back home who laughed when she went off to school. Telling her how she would be back soon enough. She ignores the people now who laugh as well. The best she can tell it’s most of the last few months that are broken. Some facts return but not everything. She pieces what she can and spends all hours re-learning the rest. The entire time she just gets angrier and angrier. Life isn’t fair but this is just cruel. She avoids people except when strictly necessary, always picking the highest seat away from anyone else. It feels like she’s being watched and she figures sitting with her back to the wall might lessen that.

 

“I’m dying.”

 

Lilith glances up. Randall is standing on the steps looking at her with the expression of a kicked puppy.

 

“Can i please sit with you? He keeps calling on me and I can’t anymore. I’ve got actual work.”

 

“Do what you want,” She says with a shrug, turning back to her notebook and throwing her backpack on the chair next to her. Randall sits two seats down and fishes his stuff out. 

 

Professor Duke walks in, glances up and then turns to the board.

 

Lilith can’t find it in herself to thank Randall for being a decent human being, even though a part of her feels like she should. Everyone should act like he did. Not like whoever drugged her and ripped her clothes. Thinking about it makes her throat tight. She just wants things to be over. She wants people to stop staring for the wrong reasons. Mostly she wants to feel normal. She swallows against her tight throat and realizes she’s missed something. Reaching up, she sets the backpack between them down. Randall looks over and then immediately takes the invitation, shifting his notebook.

 

“Thank you,” she mutters.

 

“You’re welcome,” he says.

 

That’s it. It’s her first interaction that hasn’t resulted in laughter or judgement. After she copies the notes they go back to focusing on Professor Duke.

 

It takes two more classes before she finally turns to him afterwards.

 

“I have your jacket,” she says, forcing herself to meet his eyes and take the judgement. But there’s only embarrassment, “I washed it. But i forgot it. I can bring it by?”

 

“Sure,” he says, “do you remember where—“ she shakes her head, “here,” he scribbles down his address and gives it to her, “come by later? Or tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow,” she says. He still looks embarrassed, “what?” She asks.

 

“I didn’t mean to freak you out bringing you there,” he explains, “i just didn’t know where else to take you—“

 

“It’s fine,” she says, “i had to go to the hospital and I didn’t want to wake you.” It’s a lie, she didn’t want anyone there, but he lets her have it, “i’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

 

She ducks away and out of the room.

 

In the morning she dresses in sweats and tied her hair up. She takes Randall’s jacket and makes sure she knows how to get there. The house looks so decrepit she almost thinks its the wrong place. Boarded up windows, peeling paint, there’s an old sign propped up against the gate that says to beware of the dog. She gets an odd sense of dejavu as she walks up to the house, but she chalks it up to being there before. She knocks on the door.

 

“Hi!” Randall says opening it immediately.

 

“You live here?” Lilith blurts out.

 

“Yeah,” he says, “it’s nicer inside. We keep the outside looking like this so no one comes in.”

 

“It’s working,” she says. She holds the jacket out, “here,” she continues, “sorry it took so long.”

 

He looks at the jacket she’s holding out. 

 

“You want to keep it?” He offers, “i have others—“

 

“No!” She says and winces at how harsh it sounds, “i don’t.”

 

He takes it, not seeming to be offended. She wonders if he knows she just can’t have any reminders of that night. Even comforting ones. Then she thinks about how he might know that. If he googled or read up on it—she’s not sure how to think about that. Kindness is a foreign thing to her. It hurts as much as anything. Randall looks at the jacket. She turns, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be a million miles from this place. 

 

“Wait!” Randall comes out onto the porch, “i have coffee. You want coffee?” She presses her lips together, “it’s not the stuff on campus. My room mate is into all that organically grown stuff—it’s good coffee,” he says. 

 

She looks up at the house and at Randall whose offered kindness and something deep in her guts says to run. But Lilith is tired of that voice. She looks at him again.

 

“I make it,” she says, refusing to put any question in the statement.

 

“Oh, yeah of course,” Randall says.

 

She nods then and he holds open the door.

 

The house is a lot nicer on the inside. Homey is a word she’d used to describe it. It feels welcoming in a way her dorm and the campus hasn’t. Randall leads her to the kitchen, dumping out the full coffee pot and grabbing down the beans and a spoon and a filter. He doesn’t make it weird, but he does clear his throat as she takes the pot and goes for the sink, pointing at the fridge. She takes the full, sealed water bottle and fills the pot, pouring it in and adding the beans that smell very very good. The machine starts and she leans against the counter. Randall is quiet.

 

“Are you just going to stare?” She asks.

 

“My room mate—“ he starts

 

“Needs more coffee.”

 

Lilith turns to see Professor Duke standing there. If seeing him without a tie was weird, it pales to seeing him in a pair of grey pajama pants and a pair of glasses, paper in one hand and a coffee mug with the bat signal in the other. He looks at her, at Randall, the sweatshirt and the coffee pot in rapid succession, but she gets the feeling that he takes every facet in.

 

“Are you two boning?” She asks.

 

“What?!” Randall says at the same time Professor Duke makes a face, “hey!” Randall objects.

 

“No,” he says, “we aren’t. Did he invite you here?”

 

“I was returning something,” she says. 

 

“When did you start the coffee?” He asks.

 

“A minute ago,” she tells him, “why?”

 

“Because i’m caffeine dependent,” he says, “you should probably call me Hamish,” he adds.

 

“No thanks,” Lilith says, “I’m not into the whole devil’s triangle thing either, just so we’re on the same page.”

 

“I didn’t bring you here to proposition you for a threesome,” Randal says, “Put this on, please?” He says to Hamish. He sets down his mug with a sigh and puts it on. Lilith watches the exchange as the coffee starts to drip into the pot.

 

“You’re not helping the not dating thing,” she says, “mugs?”

 

“Top cabinet,” Hamish tells her. She glares and Randall comes over, pulling one down, “we are not dating.”

 

“The friend I told you about was his girlfriend,” Randall says.

 

Lilith nods, even though that goes in the blank spot of her memory. She’s not showing more weakness than she has to though. 

 

“Sorry about your loss,” she tells him. 

 

“Not before coffee, please,” he says with a tight smile.

 

Lilith gets that. It’s less awkward than it should be, watching the coffee drip. Hamish scans the paper as Randall gets down the cereal. One glance from Hamish has him putting it back and going for the eggs instead. Lilith watches their silent communication. She definitely doesn’t believe they aren’t sleeping together with that level of cooperation. Finally the coffee’s done. She pours Hamish first, then herself and then Randall. The order feels wrong so she sticks to it. She takes a sip. 

 

“Fuck that’s good,” she exclaims and Hamish looks pleased. 

 

“I’ll do this,” Hamish says, “why don’t you go to the living room?”

Lilith grips her cup tighter and Randall clears his throat. 

 

“I got this,” he says. Hamish raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Full offense, Professor, I’m kind of watching who makes food these days,” she says, cutting through whatever excuse Randall’s about to say, “since someone slipped something in my drink.” 

 

Hamish doesn’t look surprised and Lilith knows everyone knows, but it still stings. If anything he looks mildly disappointed. But he also nods like he gets it and takes over cracking the eggs from Randall. They have another one of their silent communications and Randall wipes his hands on his sweatpants and takes a breath like he’s psyching himself up, before he turns to her. 

 

“How would you feel about not having to worry about someone slipping things in your drink?” He says. 

 

“Sounds fucking great,” she replies. 

 

“What about running naked through the woods?”

 

“Better than being carried through them,” she says. 

 

“Randall,” Hamish cuts in, “this isn’t a sales pitch. Do it.” 

 

“I thought I told you I’m not into whatever kinky shit this is,” she says. 

 

Lilith raises her eyebrows at the underlying authority in his voice. He must be the top or the power bottom. Either way he’s clearly more in charge. Lilith doesn’t remember a lot but she definitely knows she doesn’t like giving up control in that department. Or any department.  Randall gives her a lopsided grin and steps back as she salutes him and takes a sip of coffee. 

 

Which is the moment he chooses to turn into a giant wolf. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty pretty please consider leaving a comment or kudos. It's my only form of sustenance.


	8. Waning Gibbous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Behind here are the Hides. If one picks you, you will become a Knight and join the line of those who have worn it before you. Then you will take the oath and give your life to our mission. This is your last chance to leave.”_   
>  _“I’m good,” she says without missing a beat, grabbing the door handle, “in here?” They nod and she opens the locker, “see you in a bit.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there is a mention of implied sexual assault and drug use. It’s not graphic but I don’t want anyone to be surprised.

“So, next time, maybe not over breakfast,” Hamish says.

 

“Good idea,” Randall says, pressing the ice pack to his face, “sorry. I didn’t realize you had coffee in your mouth,” he grins, “but great reflexes,” he looks at Hamish, “I told you she had great reflexes.”

 

Randall’s got a beach towel wrapped around his waist. Lilith has both hands wrapped around the fresh cup of coffee. The last one she threw at his face. He touches his skin which isn’t raised or lumpy anymore. He braves the stinging to show her. She grips the cup a little tighter at his miraculous healing before she takes another sip. Hamish slides eggs and bacon in front of both of them and takes his own plate, joining them at the island. Lilith picks up the fork and starts eating. Randall feels proud. Not of her, he’s got nothing to do with her abilities, but of himself for making the right call.

 

“We’re werewolves,” Hamish explains, “sworn to fight evil. Here, we’re sworn to fight the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose,” his eyes soften, “we think they’re the ones who drugged you.”

 

“And you fight them?” Lilith says.

 

“Yeah we—“ Randall begins

 

“Great, where do I sign up?” She cuts him off, taking a bigger bite.

 

It would make sense that she wants to join. Randall had a feeling she would. Hamish was the one who said they had to wait until they were sure she was at least a little alright. That a commitment like this had to be made with something of a level head. Or should be. If they are any indication, a sound head and the decision to sign your life away for the power to turn into a dark magic hunting werewolf aren’t two things that automatically go together. 

 

“Hang on,” Hamish says, “joining the Knights is a commitment. It’s not to be undertaken lightly. Or because of revenge. You think you’ll feel this way your whole life but—“

 

“Chancellor Stone asked me how many parties I went to and how many boys bought me drinks,” she cuts him off, “so did the cops. They tore my pants and I was asked why my jeans were low.” She looks at him, “don’t tell me how I’m going to feel.”

 

He has the grace to look down. 

 

“You weren’t assaulted,” Randall says. Lilith looks at him sharply, “I’m not saying that changes things. What was done to you was horrible. We have heightened senses. Tearing your clothes was as far as they got.”

 

“The doctors did a kit. I know that,” she says. She looks at Hamish, “what’s a good reason to join? Why did you?” Hamish sighs. 

 

“I followed a girl.”

 

Lilith glares with full outrage at his words. Randall thought it was sweet when Hamish told him, but Lilith doesn’t strike him as the ‘romance’ type. She definitely isn’t the type to just accept being told no. He’s not sure what type she is, but he looks forward to finding out if she and Hamish don’t kill each other. 

 

“How is that better than me being attacked?!” She demands.

 

“I joined because I wanted powers,” Randall says, trying to inject some levity into the situation, “and because Hamish saw me save a kid.”

 

“Why am I not surprised,” Lilith says, throwing her hands up before putting them on her hips, “I might be ‘over it’ one day, but they still attacked me. That is never going to change. But I can damn sure make sure they don’t do it again.”

 

Hamish looks at her silently and Randall can practically see him tipping the scales. Randall knows this is the right move. He’s watched Lilith carefully, seeing how she reacts. Which fucking sucks, if he’s being honest because all he wants to do is go up to everyone and tell them to shut the hell up. Hamish looks over her shoulder at him and Lilith tilts so she’s in Hamish’s face. Her brashness seems to surprise him before he makes the face he does when Randall says something ridiculous.

 

“Don’t look at him,” Lilith snaps, “this is—“

 

“Between both of us,” Hamish says evenly, “If we do this you will be a part of a pack. Right now that is the two of us. We have to be in agreement.” They both look at him and Randall gets the feeling that he’s going to spend a lot of time in this position, “well?”

 

“I brought her in, I definitely vote she should join,” he says. 

 

Hamish is silent for a moment.

 

“Finish your eggs and we’ll go to the locker,” he says, “doing this on an empty stomach is a bad idea,” he frowns, “you’re not a vegetarian are you?” She shakes her head, “have you ever been hunting?”

 

“Yeah,” She says, ignoring the weird sense of dejavu, “my dad taught me when I was a kid.”

 

Hamish nods, picks up his fork and finishes at the same time Lilith does.

 

They head to the Locker.

 

“Behind here are the Hides. If one picks you, you will become a Knight and join the line of those who have worn it before you. Then you will take the oath and give your life to our mission. This is your last chance to leave.”

 

You can tell a lot by how long it takes someone to accept. Or try to leave. Almost as much as you can tell by which hide takes them. Or if any hide does. That is the other side of this. If she doesn’t get picked they’ll have to kill her. Randall has watched her though. Grey thinks that the hides are broken if one doesn’t pick her. And Grey would know. Randall thought about things for a bit before he went inside, Cassie told him Hamish thought for five minutes and made a pros and cons list. Lilith turns the moment it’s clear Hamish is done speaking.

 

“I’m good,” she says without missing a beat, grabbing the door handle, “in here?” They nod and she opens the locker, “see you in a bit.”

 

They close the door and there’s nothing to do but wait.

 

Hamish drags him back to the kitchen to grab an icepack, even though his burn is mostly fine. He finishes reading his paper and Randall keeps the ice on as he paces. He remembers flinging the door open and running. He remembers things being chaotic but happening very quickly. 

 

“I’m gonna go check,” he says. Hamish blocks him, “maybe she tripped and hit her head or something.”

 

“No,” he says, “we wait until the door opens.”

 

“Is this taking long? This feels like it’s taking long.”

 

“There’s no time limit,” Hamish tells him, “sit.” 

 

He sits, picking at the edge of the towel that he’s wearing, then he paces some more. Grey’s own agitation seems to reflect back. Not that he’s worried, he isn’t. Neither of them are. Grey is tight with anticipation. Randall remembers the pure joy he felt when he took the Hide and knows now that it was Greybeard’s joy at being let out. Now Greybeard wants someone new to run with. He’s mid pace when the door is slammed into from the other side. All of Hamish’s cool goes out the window.

 

“That sounds like Silverback,” he says, “or maybe it’s Midnight.”

 

“Definitely Silverback,” Randall says. 

 

“Probably. I think the last night was fifty years ago?” Hamish fiddles with the zipper jacket, “you may have been smarter than I thought in picking her.” 

 

“Uh, I’m premed,” Randall says, offended, “I’m smart. I’m also attractive. I don’t know why you were upset about the implication we slept together.”

 

“Because I just lost my girlfriend?” Hamish says. 

 

The door cracks. 

 

“Okay, get ready,” he says.

 

It flies open and something massive and silvery grey barrels past them. 

 

“Was that—“ Randall begins but Hamish shoves him aside and runs into the room, “shit,” Randall breathes. 

 

It’s Timber. 

 

Long is the road, short is the life but this seems especially cruel. Silverback and Midnight’s trunks are still closed. Timber’s is open and has slid back, as though the hide was violent when it left. Deep down, Randall knows that Cassie would have helped Lilith. Probably a lot better than he did. Cassie was one of those people who could get through to anyone. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had inspired the Hide somehow to help her. 

 

On the same hand, Hamish looks at the trunk with a hollow expression that seals off from anger to resignation. It looks like a part of him has died all over again at the empty trunk. Or maybe it’s like Cassie has died all over again and Hamish is just left behind. Randall opens his mouth and Hamish turns, his eyes hard. 

 

“Make sure she doesn’t kill herself,” he says. 

 

Randall nods, shifts and runs after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty pretty please consider leaving a comment or kudos. It helps the muse.


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